So We Meet Again (Johnlock)
by WhoLocked93
Summary: John bumps into a strange man on his way to work. It's not until he is at work that John receives a surprise of his life. John will travel to the end of the world to find Sherlock and Sherlock would do anything just to protect his blogger from harm.
1. Chapter 1: Odd Encounter

**John**

It's bitter cold as I step out of my flat at Baker St. this morning. The fog is thick and clings low to the ground, as the wind howls through the busy London streets. I shiver, pulling my coat tighter around me as I stuff my hands further into my pockets. I begin to regret my decision to walk from Baker St to work. I'm almost there however. So I bow my head against the wind and continue to trudge through the crowded streets.

My mind begins to wander on its own accord. As usual, it wanders to thoughts of Sherlock. My best friend. I smiles, sadly at the face that floats through his memories. I miss him, dearly. Sherlock has been gone for almost a year now. It feels surreal.

My heart aches constantly. I never realised how I truly felt about Sherlock until after his death. I always denied it from everyone, including myself, but the truth is I love Sherlock and I was too stupid, too stubborn, and too blind to realise what was right in front of me until he was already gone. I have a million things I wants to say to him, but they're lost to the wind now. I feel such sorrow and emptiness inside; a black hole has created a permanent residence in my heart that I know will never be filled.

I sigh quietly to myself, as my mind continues to wander deeper into my thoughts and memories of Sherlock.

It begins to replay Sherlock's last day alive. I can close my eyes and see the day play out before me in perfect clarity. I see his intelligent aquamarine eyes staring blind and unseeing into the sky above, while his blood pools around his beautiful, pale face. The smell of iron assaults my nose, as the scent of his blood fill the air around me...

My stomach clenches and my eyes sting as the memory washes over me like a physical pain.

I feel like kicking myself for thinking of Sherlock in his saddest memory, but how can I not. Moriarty drove Sherlock to his early death. He caused him to renounce his brilliance and put his name to shame in his last phone call to me. Sherlock called it his note. He is now known to the world as a fraud and the news has spread like wildfire across the world.

I shake my head, trying to physically shake away the horrible memory that plagues me. I made a promise to myself and to Sherlock that I wouldn't think about that day. I promised that I would remember the good and happy memories we-

My train of thought is abruptly interrupted when I accidentally bump into a tall, slender man. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts and memories that I didn't even see him.

"Oi, mate. Sorry about that." I say, apologetically.

"It's alright." He mumbles softly in a deep baritone voice as he continued his path.

I stand there momentarily stunned by his voice. It sounds so familiar, but the man spoke too softly to be able to really put my finger to it. I continue standing there, letting my eyes trail after the man while I take note of his appearance.

I can't see his face since he's wearing a grey jacket with the hood pulled up, but he's quite tall and a bit too thin for his height. He's wearing dark blue jeans that are slightly too big for him, as they hang quite low on his hips and a baggy black t-shirt. He walks quickly and with a rather arrogant stride...

I keep staring after the man until he disappears around the corner. Reality crashes back to me as I realise that I'm standing in the middle of the sidewalk, gawking at now nothing, as people make impatient noises towards me and walk around.

I feel the urge to follow the man, but decide against it as I peer at my watch and realise I'm going to be late for work. So I turn on my heel and continue towards work, trying to brush off the odd encounter with no avail.

I keep my hands in a fist tightly to my side as I try to think. His voice sounded so familiar, but I can't match a face to the voice. It's driving me mad! I continue to try and match the two together until I get to work.

When I finally reach my job at the local clinic, the warm air engulfs me like an old friend. I make my way through the small waiting area, nodding my greeting to the nurse and go down the short hall to my office at the end. I turn on the light and close the door. I take my coat off and drape it on the chair as I reach into the pocket to fish out my mobile.

When I reach in I feel a small slip of paper brush gently against my fingers. I don't remember having anything in there when I left the flat that morning.

I pull out the thick, off white coloured paper and unfold it slowly.

My heart stops and I can't breathe. I feel like I'm going to pass out. My throat closes up to the size of a pin and I feel my eyes sting. I sit down heavily on my chair, my legs refusing to hold me up any longer as my hands begin to shake violently. My body betrays me as hot, salty tears roll down my face.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here. Feels like hours, but I can't move. I can't tear my eyes away from the note. I just keep reading it over and over again, not believing what I'm seeing.

It's not until the nurse knocks on my door to notify me that my first patient has arrived that I come out of my paralysing trance.

I read the little note one last time, before tucking it carefully into my pocket.

All the note holds is a message. A single worded message that means more to me than a thousand words. It's scrawled in beautiful handwriting that I instantly recognise as his.

It reads,  
Soon.

I know who the voice belongs to now. It was Sherlock. I must find him. I know it was him. I have to find Sherlock.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2: Soon

**Sherlock**

I round the corner, trying hard not to look back at John. I want to go back. I want to tell him that I'm alive, but I know I can't. I must wait.

A black car pulls up next to me. I ignore it. I know who's in it and I don't want to be chastised by him. It's none of his business.

"Get in." Mycroft drawls, sounding bored. Well that didn't last long.

I ignore him. God. Can he just go away! Stupid, daft, annoying Mycroft...

"Sherlock. Get in. Now." He says sounding impatient with a slight threat to his tone.

"Oh, for fucks sake, Mycroft!" I say agitated, placing a cigarette to my lips and lighting it to smoke in the car. I didn't feel the urge to smoke now, I just wanted to piss Mycroft off further. He doesn't like anyone smoking in his car but him. Arse.

We sit in the car in silence. I smoke my cigarette. Mycroft sitting across from me looking out the window. His umbrella leans against his leg on the ground as he holds onto the handle. He picks agitatedly at the wood of the handle. I smirk.

"Stop smirking, Sherlock. You look ridiculous." Mycroft says.

"Piss off." I say, with an eye roll. "What's got your knickers in a twist?" I ask completely uninterested, it's not like I don't already know. But let's continue the game of How Much I Can Piss Off Mycroft in One Car Ride.

"Don't be daft. You know exactly why I am agitated." He says, finally turning to me with a cold stare. "You were to not contact John Watson at all and you disobeyed those orders. You have put yourself and John in mortal danger, my dear brother."

"I am not stupid, Mycroft. I made sure no one was watching me."

"How could you be so sure." He sneers.

It wasn't a question, but I choose to answer it anyways. "It was at the precise time when the spy from Moriarty's web whom keeps tabs on John left his post to get his tea. He does this at the same time, everyday, without fail. So, I simply altered a few of John's work hours to align with his tea break and violà John is unobserved for a few minutes. Enough time for me to slip the note in his pocket and disappear." I say quickly and rather bored sounding as I flick my cigarette out the window.

"Oh how clever." He says, sarcastically. "I knew that already, dear brother. However, you were poorly mistaken as someone was watching your dear John."

I stiffen in my seat and fix my eyes on Mycroft with a cold, dead stare.

"Their has always been two people that have watched John. One we have been obviously aware of, but the other was discreet. He blended easily into the crowd. Completely unnoticed by even the British Government. It wasn't until this little stunt of yours that we knew of his existence. He saw you slip your note to John and dropped what he was doing in an instant and started pursuing him. Thankfully, we had our own people watching over him and he was quickly captured and disposed of in a matter of minutes. The other one has escaped. Leaving John safe from the pitiful remainder of Moriarty's web. That is until the escaped spy comes back, presumably with reinforcements."

"What do I need to do?"

"You need to find and destroy the escaped spy. Prior to his destruction find the location of the headquarters in which he is heading. Once you have located it, kill him, and bring the information back to me. I will take care of it. Once the last few strands of Moriarty's web is destroyed, you may go back to John."

"Simple, easy, should be done in a matter of days."

"Don't get cocky now, Sherlock. You must be on your toes at all times. These are not the ordinary, run of the mill criminals you use to dealt with when you assisted Lestrade."

I nod my understanding and stare out the window, planning my course of action.

We sit in silence for a couple more minutes as we make our way back to Mycroft's house when he suddenly asks, "What did you write in the note for John?"

I squint at him. What an odd question to ask me. What does he care and obviously he already knows. No doubt one of his minions reported it to him. So why does he want me to tell him.

"Contrary to what you are obviously thinking, I don't know what you wrote in the note. I am simply curious."

I smirk and turn my head to look out the window. I stare out for a couple of moments, before I say, "I wrote, 'Soon.'"

Mycroft's face changes to shock for the briefest of moments before he rearranges his features to cool, indifference. If I would have blinked I would have missed it, but I never miss anything.

"Oh course." Is all he says before turning away from me.

Mycroft thinks he is so brilliant, but on the contrary he will never be as brilliant as I. I have known about the second spy for quite sometime. I knew he'd be watching me as I slipped the note into John's pocket and would then begin to pursue John, but not before notifying the first spy. I also knew Mycroft's team would quickly take care of the spy pursuing John. Now the first spy is on the run like a frightened dog with its tail tucked between its legs. He is exposed and will be easily located. When I do find him, I will kill him along with the rest of Moriarty's web. Then I can finally see my John again. I'll see him soon.

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3: The Note

**John**

I stand up unsteadily, grabbing my coat, and open the door. The nurse is looking at her chart and tells me that my first patient has arrived. Shit. I can't be here right now. I have to go. I need to find Sherlock. He's alive, I don't know how, but I know he is. I can't stay here. I have to leave.

I brush past the nurse pulling my coat on. She looks up at me questioningly.

"John, where are you going?"

"I... I'm sorry. I have to go. Something has happened."

"What? Your leaving? What happened?"

"I can't talk. I have to go."

"But what about the patients?"

"I have to go!" I shout at her, as I turn around. She flinches. Fuck. "Look. I'm sorry, but I can't stay I must go. I will try to be back later. Dr. Kahn will be here in 20 minutes. She doesn't have any appointments for an hour after she gets here, have her see him and just reschedule my other ones. I'm sorry."

"Alright." She says with a curt nod. She's angry with me. I don't blame her, but I can't dwell on fixing this right now.

"Thank you." I say as I turn and leave.

I walk outside and throw my hand up to hail a cabbie. Two pass me before one finally pulls over. I get in and give him the address to Mycroft's house. I don't know where Sherlock would be by now, but going to Mycroft's would be the best place to start.

I sit in the cab, anxiously fiddling with fabric of my jeans.

"Can't you go any faster?" I ask, impatiently.

"Not if I want to get pulled over, mate."

"Bloody fucking hell. I'll get out right here." I am not too far now, I can run faster than waiting for this damn cab to maneuver through the traffic. I hop out and shove a couple of notes to the cabbie and take off running.

I reach Mycroft's place within five minutes completely out of breath with a horrible stitch in my side. I catch my breath enough to make the stitch go away and walk in, not even bothering knocking.

"Mycroft!" I shout. Nothing. "Mycroft! I know you're here." Still nothing. I take the grand staircase two at a time as I make my way to his study. I raise my hand to knock when I hear his familiar, bored drawl.

"Come in, John."

I open the door and walk in. Mycroft is sitting at his desk reading a file of sorts not even looking up when I approach. As I reach the edge of the desk, he sets the file down and leans forward, linking his hands together and placing it under his chin.

"What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Piss off. You know why I'm here."

"On the contrary, John. I have no idea why you are here." God, why is he such a difficult arse. I sigh and sit down, pulling the note out of my pocket and handing it to him. He reads over it briefly, before handing it back.

"That's Sherlock's writing. I got the note this morning when I bumped into a bloke I know was him." He begins to talk, but I cut him off and continue. " Don't try to bullshit me, Mycroft. I know it was him. It's his writing. I can recognise it anywhere. So go on, tell me. Where is he? I know damn well you know where he's at."

"John. I wish I could agree with you that it is his writing, but whilst it is similar, it is not his writing." He says, sadly. He is such a lying sod!

"Fuck, Mycroft. I told you not to bullshit me. I know it's his!" I say through gritted teeth, trying to control my anger.

Mycroft doesn't say anything as he turns to open a cabinet behind him. He pulls out a tattered file labeled Sherlock and hands it to me.

"What's this?" I say, not opening the file.

"Just open it, John." He drawls, impatiently.

I flip open the file and peer at the papers inside. It is a letter written by Sherlock, dated the day of his "death". I feel my throat constrict. It's his will.

I skim over the writing and my heart sinks. The writing in his will is definitely Sherlock's. I unfold the note that I had clenched in my hand. They're different.

"As you can see, John. Whilst the writing styles are quite similar, there is a distinct difference between the two."

"But I heard him speak. His voice. It was his." I say quietly, my emotions threaten to betray me.

Mycroft's facade breaks for the briefest of moments. If John wasn't looking at the papers, he would have seen the alarm that crossed his face. He quickly rearranges his features to cool, indifference.

"I am terribly sorry, John. This has been a cruel joke. My brother's death was very much publicised and people dispise him now. Someone just wanted to hurt you. I will find whoever did this." He says, solemnly.

I stand up, I've had enough. I feel humiliated.

"Don't. Just leave it, Mycroft." I say, as I turn to leave.

"I'm sorry, John." He says, quietly and sincerely. I ignore him. I don't need his pity.

I make my way down the stairs faster than I was going up and slam the door on my way outside. I don't bother with a cab and decide to walk home. My eyes sting and I will myself not to cry. I feel so humiliated and completely destoryed.

I fiddle with the note in my hand as I reach Baker St. I let myself in and go up to the flat. I shrug off my coat and make myself some tea. I pull out the note, running the pad of my thumb over the letters. I still think that it's his. A part of me refuses to let it go. But his will, it was undeniably his writing and the writing just wasn't the same. The word on the note, just looked like... like it was rushed.

The sudden realisation hits me and I practically jump out of my chair, almost knocking it over. I go to Sherlock's room and open his closet. I begin to pull out old boxes until I find the one I'm looking for. It was an old case that we had. It was an exceptional difficult one that Sherlock had difficulty solving. God, that week was dreadful. He had written down information and clues trying to make sense of it. His writing was rushed. If the wiritng could just match...

I pull out the papers and flipped to the one I was looking for.

My heart stops in my chest and I feel weak in the knees. The writing is identical. In almost every way. Triumph and hope course through me accompanied with overwhelming anger. Why is Mycroft lying to me? Why can't he just tell me the truth for once! Fine. I don't care. If he won't help me, I will find Sherlock myself. I know damn well he's alive and no one will tell me otherwise. I will find him. Since no one will help me, I will find him by myself.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4: Mycroft

**Sherlock**

I stand quietly behind the door. I heard the entire conversation between John and Mycroft. I want to go to John so bad. I want to comfort him and punch Mycroft in the face for being a stubborn daft sod.

"I know you've been listening, Sherlock." Mycroft says.

I walk in angrily, my coat billowing behind me.

"You could have just told him."

"Dear brother, you have become quite slow. How many times do I need to repeat myself. We cannot let John Watson know you are alive until Moriarty's web is completely destroyed. If John finds out that you are alive, surely the remains of Moriartiy's web will find out and if that happens either one or both of you will be captured and tortured. It will end in both of your deaths. A death you cannot fake this time."

"I could use his help!" I shout. John and I had escaped danger far worse than this before. With John's help we could take care of it quicker.

"No, you can't." Mycroft says, anger seeping through his facade. "I am not going to say this again, Sherlock. If you alert John Watson of your existence, you will be removed from this case and sent on one that you will not survive more than six months on. You are my brother, but if you alert him you will put all of England in mortal danger. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." I sneer. Mycroft's threats are such bullshit, but for once I will do as he says. The quicker I can complete this case the quicker I can be reunited with John. The thought makes my heart lift.

I have always known about my feelings for John, even before I faked my death. I tried to push them down, but they were persistent and never fully went away. They always remained. I know John used to feel the same, but unlike me, his feelings have disappeared over time. More so now that I have been "dead" they are now nonexistent, not even a shadow of its former self remains. I have never felt this way about anyone. Of course I had experimented, it was strictly for research purposes though nothing more, nothing less. With John however I feel something more. It goes beyond simple experimentation for research. I want to be with him. I want to be the one that he comes home from work to every evening. I want him to lay asleep next to me when I do actually sleep. I want him to be mine and I his. I just want to show him how much I love him and care for him... But John does not feel that way for me anymore. That ship has sailed with no chance of returning. My heart turns heavy. When did I become such a sentiment?...

"Sherlock... Sherlock. Dear lord are you listening to me?" Mycroft's annoying voice snags me from my thoughts. I hadn't heard a word he said.

"Sorry. What?"

"What on earth were you thinking so profusely about?"

"Nothing." I say too quickly, before hastily adding, "Just the case."

"Of course you were." He says completely disbelieving. "Are you ready to go? The car is waiting out back."

Thank god he dropped that quickly.

"Yes. Yes. I'm ready."

"Very well. Good luck, Sherlock and please stay safe. Mummy would be terribly upset if something happened to you."

I give him a curt nod and make my leave, grabbing my bag as I make my way to the car around back. I get in and the car quickly takes off, weaving in and out of traffic tactfully. I pick nervously at the seat of the car. I never let anyone know how nervous I get when I go into a case that's more dangerous than usual, not even John. John. I wouldn't be so nervous if he was here. He always makes me feel... safe.

I shake my head. John can't be her now. I must take care of the spy that was watching John and got away by myself. He is a danger to him and I will not have that. I will protect John. I will always protect him, even if it is the last thing I do.

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5: John's Mission

**John**

It's been almost a week since I made the definite connection that the note I have was in Sherlock's handwriting and that he was the person that gave it to me. I've been gathering information, trying to figure out where he would be and I can't bloody hell figure it out! I'm not Sherlock, I'm not clever.

Okay. Think John. Think! If I were Sherlock where would I be. Where would I go. What would I do. Fuck! I don't know! Shit! Okay. Okay. Just calm down and think!

I pace around Sherlock's room frantically, trying to put myself in his shoes. I can't figure out where he would be. Mycroft's no bloody help, but it seems logical that he would stay with him. Only if I can get into his house without him knowing and snoop around a bit. Damn. That wouldn't do any good, not with all the bloody cameras and security he has throughout that place you'd think he lived in Buckingham Palace. I wouldn't make it five minutes without getting caught.

Okay. I have to think of something else then. Sherlock obviously faked his death. I don't know how, but it would have had to be quite extravagant and well thought out. So, accomplices. He had accomplices. Fucking arse I could have helped him... Stop John! You have no time for this!

I pinch the bridge of my nose, breathing deeply. He had accomplices. Who would he have had as accomplices. Someone he could trust. Someone that did not benefit from if he was alive or dead, therefore would not try to betray him by letting the world know he was alive. Who... Who... WHO!

Then it hits me like I've ran into a break wall. His homeless network. Stupid! Stupid John! Why didn't I realise this before!

I run out of his room, grab my coat, and fly down the stairs. I grab a cab and give him the cross streets to where the homeless network stays. I twitch impatiently until I get there ten minutes later. I throw a couple notes at the cabbie and make my way to the entrance.

I manoeuvre around the rubbish filled building, looking for familiar faces. After five minutes of searching, I begin to panic and grow anxious. I don't recognise anyone.

I run my fingers roughly through my hair out of frustration when I hear an unfamiliar voice.

"Hello, John." The nasally voice says. I turn around quickly, hand primed to grab my gun if needed.

"Who are you?" I demand, looking over the man leaning against the wall not 5 feet away from me. He's a tall, thin bloke with wavy mousy coloured hair that goes to his chin. It's matted and dirty. His clothes are torn and covered in rubbish. His nose has been broken multiple times. He smokes a cigarette casually, making the air around me reek of its smell.

"Not important. You lookin' for information on Sherlock Holmes?"

"How would you know if I was?"

"You wouldn't be here if you wasn't."

Shit. He's got a point.

"What information do you have?"

"I don't got any information. Bloke's dead from my understandin'. But I've got a friend that may have some information for ya."

"Why should I trust you? You think he's dead anyways."

"Ain't he though?"

Oh, shit. I shouldn't be telling him that Sherlock's alive. I need to fix this.

"Yeah, he's gone. I just want to know more information on something that I found out recently about him. So, yeah..."I say as I slump my shoulders, sadly. I should have been a bloody actor.

"Sorry for your loss, mate."

"Ta." I mumble.

"So you want to talk to the person that may know more bout your Sherlock?" My Sherlock.

"Yeah.." I say as he pulls out a notepad and pen from his pocket and jots down an address in messy handwriting.

"Go to this address here and ask for a man by the name of Seymour. He'll give you all the information he's got on your friend." He says as he hands me the slip of paper.

"Right. Ta." I say, turning around to make my leave.

"Good luck, Dr. John Watson." He says quietly, inhaling on his cigarette.

I leave the homeless building and grab another cab. The address is all the way on the other side of town. Damn. It's going to be ages till I get there. I have to get there quicker.

"Drive faster and this is yours." I say, leaning forward and pulling out a fifty pound note to show the cabbie.

He takes a quick glance at it before turning back, "Make it double and you've got a deal." He says, gruffly.

"Right." I say, pulling out another.

"We'll be there in twenty." He says, taking off into traffic. He weaves in and out of traffic swiftly. Clearly he's done this before. I clutch my seat and try not to curse profanities at the man as we almost hit another cabbie.

We reach the house in just under twenty minutes. I hand over the notes and make my way up to the house.

It's a big, white house that has been coloured a murky brown from all the rubbish and ware it has been through due to lack of proper care. The old, iron fence is rusted and falling. I make my way up the loose wooden stairs and knock on the door. I can hear muffled steps and the door opens a crack.

"What you want?"

"I'm here to see Seymour."

The door closes abruptly before swinging open all the way.

"Upstairs. Second door on the right."

I give him a curt nod and brush past. I walk up the creaky stairs and go to the door the man downstairs said to go to. It's open.

I make my way slowly through the room, minding my surroundings. After a moment of looking, I straighten up realising no one is here. What the bloody hell is going on.

"Over here." A voice says from the other room adjacent to the one I'm in. I turn to see a door hidden neatly away in the corner of the room.

I walk slowly over to the door, hand on my gun.

A neatly dressed man sits in a lone chair in the middle of the room. His short wavy blonde hair is slicked back. His grey suit in pristine condition.

"Seymour." I state with a nod.

"Well. Well. Well. If it isn't Dr. John Watson. Now what do I owe the pleasure of?" He says in a posh, arrogant tone.

I'm about to speak when I hear someone precariously close behind me. I turn around quickly grabbing my gun.

I'm confronted by the man I saw downstairs. He holds a massive piece of wood in his hand. I bring my gun up and fire a shot. The noise rings through the room ear piercingly loud. I can see the bullet travel through the man's hand, he howls in pain and smashes the wood across my temple. I go down hard, my head foggy, ears ringing, and vision blurred. I can feel the blood make its way down my face, dripping onto the floor. I try to stand up, but the man kicks me in the stomach breaking my ribs with an audible crack. It knocks me down and takes my breath from me. I heave trying to breathe.

"Well John. We are going to have a lot of fun now aren't we?" Seymour drawls, with an evil, empty glint in his eyes. I spat at him as his minion smashes his foot down on the back of my head.

"The name's Sebastion, you cock." He says spatting back at me, just as everything goes black.

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6: The Escaped Spy

**Sherlock**

I make my way back to Mycroft's house. Bruised, battered, and sore. I took care of the scum of a spy that threatened my John's life. He put up quite a fight.

It took me five days to track him down. Entirely too long. He was hiding out temporarily in an abandoned house when I found him. I snuck up on him, grabbing him from behind and throwing him to the ground, cracking his head against the wall. Adrenaline kicked in and he quickly bounced back, grabbing a knife from his pocket, slashing my forearm down to the bone. I dodge the next strike and headbutt him in his nose, blood spewing everywhere. He goes down, swiping my legs from underneath me bringing me down with him, my head slamming against the ground. I roll over, grabbing him in the process, and begin to repeatedly punch him in the face. He plunges the knife he still had in his hand into my side. I double over, giving him the upper hand. He pushes me off of him by slamming his fist into my mouth, knocking out some teeth. I spat them out, tasting the iron that fills my mouth. He takes a fistful of my hair and begins to slam my head on the ground. I bring my fist up connecting it with his jaw, knocking him out. I try to get up, when a sharp pain course through me. I look down to see the knife still plunged into my side. I make a quick assessment and conclude that it hasn't hit any major organs and pull it out slowly, gritting my teeth against the pain and toss it to the other side of the room.

I grab the man and pull him onto the chair in the corner of the room and tie him down tight. He's not going anywhere now. I pat him down taking another knife and a gun off of him. I punch him again out of anger for putting John in danger and wait for him to wake. He wakes fifteen minuter later.

"What... What... Where am I?" He mumbles, confused. He finally looks up at me. "Oh, fuck! Fuck! Shit! It's Sherlock! Oh fuck!" He panics.

"Where is the rest of Moriarty's web located." I say unemotionally, getting right to the point.

"Why the fuck do you think I'd tell you?" He says, regaining some confidence.

"You're a lonely man with no family. You have a heroine addiction by the look of those track marks on your arms and withdrawing from the look of it. I can give you a fix if you give me the location of Moriartiy's web." I say pulling out a small bag of heroin from my coat pocket.

His eyes widen, filled with lust and desperation at the prospect of his next fix.

"I don't know where it's at." He lies.

I loom forward inches from his face, my face blank and eyes dead.

"Don't lie to me. You know who I am and it doesn't work."

He exhales loudly breathing his repulsive smelling breath in my face, I step back.

"Just... Just give me a fix and I'll tell you."

I mull this over momentarily before agreeing. I pour out a small amount of the white powder, using a razor to break it up and bring out a spoon to put the powder in. I place my lighter under the spoon and watch as it boils. I look at it longingly. If I could just have a bit. Just a small amount to heighten my mind... No. No. John would know and he would be disappointed. I can't do that. I shake myself mentally as I draw the liquid into the needle.

"Looks like I'm not the only addict in the room." He says, smiling bloodily.

"Yes, why that may be true. I do not need drugs, unlike you. I am not weak and do not rely on them. I use to use them for an entirely different purpose." I say, plunging the needle crudely in his arm. He winces at the sharp pain before he leans his head back, rejoicing in the feel of the drugs spreading through his veins. I envy him. He lifts his head and looks at me, more alert than before.

"Where is it located?" I demand and he starts to laugh.

"You've got to bloody stupid to think that I would tell you!"

I slam my fist against his face, breaking two fingers. I hit him so hard that the chair topples over and he crashes to the ground. I pick him up and kick him in the stomach causing him to almost fall again.

"TELL ME WHERE IT IS!" I shout.

"Why should I?"

"Because the heroine I gave you is laced with a deadly chemical that will kill you in, ohh... I don't know... ten minutes. If you tell me, I will administer the drug that will counter the deadly affect of the poison." I say pulling out a small glass bottle.

"You fuckin cock!" He shouts, before he slumps over weak. The deadly chemical beginning to take affect.

"Right now you heart beat is slowing down drastically, making it difficult for your body to get oxygen to your brain. You will begin to feel dizzy and disoriented. Your breathing will become labored. You will start to bleed out of every hole in your body, until nothing is left. Eventually you will pass out and your heart will explode while you are still alive. Therefore, killing you." I say, heartlessly. "Now. Tell me where the remainder of Moriarty's web is located."

"Cardiff." He slurs. "It's in Cardiff. Near the old abandoned chocolate factory. You can't miss it."

I know exactly where it is. That's where I saved the two children from being poisoned to death by mercury laced chocolate. Right before I had to fake my death. Oh, how poetic, Moriarty. I think sarcastically.

"Ple... Please... Give me the counter drug." He begs, blood draining from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears.

"Oh. Of course." I say. I turn around and grab the knife I had thrown to the other side of the room earlier.

I walk behind him, grabbing a fist full of his hair, just like he did to me early and pull back hard exposing his neck.

"What made you think that I would save you." I state, cruelly as I slice his throat. Blood pools in massive amounts down his front and onto the floor. His body twitches grotesquely.

I pull out my mobile and ring Mycroft. He picks up after half a ring.

"Is it done?" He asks.

"Cardiff. Near the abandoned chocolate factory."

"Very well. Come back to London now, Sherlock."

The next day

"You did very well, brother. Although slitting his throat was a bit dramatic and quite a messy clean up." Mycroft says.

"He deserved it."

He rolls his eyes at me before saying, "Moriarty's web has been dismantled and destroyed."

"Now that it is done. I am going to see John."

Mycroft remains silent, he look upon me with pity. I feel my heart stop and my stomach turn.

"Mycroft! Where's John?! What's happened to him?!" I shout.

"He's in intensive care at Bart's Hospital. He's been badly beaten. My people were following him until his cab took off and we lost him. We found him tied up at an abandoned house across town. The men who beat him were already gone."

My world slowed down around me as he tells me the news. Everything taking on a dream like state. I didn't even realise Mycroft had approached me until he placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

"Sherlock. Go to him. He's in room 221. He needs you."

On that note I make my leave. Running out of his house, ignoring the protests of my wounds. Mycroft has a car waiting for me outside and we reach the hospital quickly.

I run into the hospital and up to John's room. I burst through the door.

John lays in the hospital bed unconscious. I can hear his heart monitor and him breathing softly. The sight of him makes me lose all composure as I begin to weep openly at the sight of my battered blogger. His head is wrapped, his left arm and leg in casts. His entire face is covered in bruises and cuts. More wounds probably cover his body underneath the blanket. I feel anger course through me. This wasn't a mugging, this was torture. If Mycroft's people didn't show up when they did he could have been... I can't bare to finish the thought.

I collapse in the chair next to his bed and take his hand within mine, brushing my lips against his fingers. Tears fall rapidly down my face and onto John's hand.

He begins to stir.

"Sherlock." He says, weakly. Tears filling his eyes. "I knew you weren't dead."

I stand up and place my hand gently on his cheek trying not to hurt him and rub the pad of my thumb against his face as I bend down to kiss his forehead.

"You've changed." He says, smiling. "Crying and showing sentiment. So unlike you."

His words break my heart. Have I truly been that callous and unemotional to him?

"You bring out the best in me." I say simply.

"I've missed you so much." He says, brokenly. "I thought for the longest time that I would never see you again."

"I was always going to come back to you. I had to take care of the remainders of Moriarty's web, before I came back. I had to make sure you were safe first."

Fear flashes through his eyes.

"John. Who did this to you?"

"Sebastian. Sebastian Moran." He says, just as his heart monitor goes erratic and then flat lines.

"Noooooo! John! Noooooo! Don't leave me! I just got you back! I need you!" I shout as a doctor and two nurses rush in and push me out of the way.

"Please don't leave me." I say in a broken whisper, collapsing to the ground, crying.

To be continued...


	7. Chapter 7: Reunion

**John**

I wake up in a hospital bed, confused. I try to remember what's happened. I look down and see the wounds that cover my body. Everything comes back to me, as I remember the horrible beating I took at the hands of Sebastian. I can feel my hand move slightly. I look over to see Sherlock sitting in a chair next to me. His hand wrapped in mine, his lips gently pressed against my finger as he sobs openly.

I can feel tears swell in my eyes. Sherlock. He's here. I thought I'd never see him again.

"Sherlock." I say, quietly, trying to push past the pain as tears fall down my face. "I knew you weren't dead."

He stands up placing his hand on my face and rubbing gently. He places a soft kiss to my forehead. He looks bad. His face is bruised and two of his fingers are in a cast. I can see blood soak through his shirt. He cries openly. His face conveying every emotion he's feeling. Worry, sadness, anger all cross his face in quick succession before finally settling on relief.

"You've changed." I say, smiling as I looking into his beautiful aquamarine eyes. "Crying and showing sentiment. So unlike you."

"You bring out the best in me." He say tenderly

I begin to break and lose myself. I finally have him back. I weep openly, as I look over his face, memorising his features all over again. Happiness of finally seeing him again fills my heart.

"I've missed you so much. I thought for the longest time that I would never see you again."

"I was always going to come back to you. I had to take care of the remainders of Moriarty's web, before I came back. I had to make sure you were safe first."

Overwhelming fear courses through me. Sebastian. He's Moriarty's right hand man. He's still out there. He almost killed me.

"John. Who did this to you?" Sherlock says, frantically. He can see the fear in my eyes. I breath slowly trying to regain my composure. I can feel my heart beat becoming erratic, the heart monitor beeping loudly.

"Sebastian. Sebastian Moran." I say, just in enough time before I go into cardiac arrest and everything goes black.

Some unknown time later

I wake up still in the hospital room. It's nighttime, I must have been out for hours. Sherlock is still at my side, asleep with his hand firmly grasped within mine. He looks so peaceful I almost don't want to wake him, but I give his hand a soft squeeze anyways and he lifts his head, groggily.

"Hey you." I say, softly looking over him. His eyes are bloodshot and he has dark circles under his eyes, he hasn't been sleeping. He looks exhausted.

"John." He says as he begins to cry once more. I begin to worry, he's looking at me like I was never going to come back.

"How long have I been out."

"Two weeks." He says, sadly.

This news shocks me. Dear god, two weeks... No wonder he looks like he hasn't slept in ages.

"You had two other cardiac arrest. Three in total. They almost... almost weren't able to bring you back the last time." He chokes. Never have a seen him at a loss for words before and completely destroyed.

I begin to try and comfort him, but the doctor bustles in before I can say anything and starts to check me over.

"Hello, Mr. Watson. I'm Dr. John Smith. How are you feeling?" He asks.

"It's Dr. Watson." Sherlock says before I could respond. It makes me smile.

"My apologise, Dr. Watson." He says, sincerely as he corrects himself

"It's alright. I'm fine, just a bit sore."

"That's to be expected. You took quite a beating. Went into cardiac arrest three times. We almost lost you the last time if your boyfriend didn't demand us to keep going."

He called Sherlock my boyfriend.

"So, I've heard." I say, deciding not to tell him that we're not together.

"We're going to keep you under observation for the next couple of days, but it looks like the worst has past. You are very lucky, Dr. Watson." He says and makes his leave.

"I don't want to stay here another couple of days." I groan. Sherlock laughs, softly. Oh, I have missed his beautiful laugh.

"I really think you ought to listen to the doctor, John." He says, smiling down at me.

"When did Mr. Sherlock Holmes start listening to hospital doctors." I scoff in mock anger.

He laughs again, making me laugh with him until my body protests and I wince in pain.

"Are you okay, John?" He asks, as he moves closer trying to comfort me. His worry for me projected clearly on his face.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Just a bit sore is all." I say smiling at him. "Don't worry so much. The doctor says the worst has past."

"I... I know." He says, still worrying about me.

I scoot over to the other side of my bed slowly, trying not to pull out any of the many wires and tubes they have attached to me.

"What are you doing? Your going to hurt yourself or pull something out."

"Don't worry. I'm fine." I say, finally on the edge of the bed. I pat the empty side next to me as I look at him, hoping that he will get the hint and lay next to me.

He stands there for a moment, trying to figure out what I'm doing. I can practically hear the gears in his brilliant head turning. Realisation flashes across his face and he looks at me sadly.

"I don't want to hurt you." He says, as his shoulders slump sadly.

"You won't." I say, kindly. "You look exhausted, Sherlock. So am I. We can both use the rest and I don't want you having to sleep in the chair anymore."

"I don't mind really." He says.

"Sherlock Holmes. Get your stubborn arse in here now."

He smiles at me and complies. He crawls in slowly next to me, trying not to jostle me too much. I try not to wince at the pain.

"Shit. Sorry." He says.

"S'alright." I say, gruffly.

He lays down next to me, his long legs almost hanging off the end of the bed. It's definitely too small for two grown men.

"You're a bloody daddy long legs, you know that." I say, making him laugh.

"Here." He says, as he rolls on his side and slides his arm gently under my head. After a moment, I snuggle closer to him placing my head under his chin. I breath in his scent. It smells woodsy and a bit like chemicals with an additional distinct smell I can only describe as Sherlock's.

"Comfy?" He asks, quietly.

"Mmmm." I mumble, beginning to feel my eyes become heavy.

"Sherlock." I ask sleepily.

"What is it?" He asks, equally as sleepy.

"Can you get me out of here sooner?" I can feel him smile against the top of my head.

"Yes. I will contact Mycroft and have him pull some favours. But for now, sleep."

"Kay. You, too." I say, beginning to drift off to sleep before I add "Don't leave me."

"Never." He says and moves closer.

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8: Together

**Sherlock**

I wake to John still fast asleep at my side, snoring softly. His face is relaxed and peaceful, making him look adorably young. The sun shines through the closed curtains, by the look of the angle it shines through it's close to noon. We've been asleep for almost ten hours.

I lift the hand that is not under John's head and slip my mobile out of my pocket and text Mycroft.

**He's conscious. Sleeping now. Pull some favours to get him out today. -SH**

His reply came back almost instantly.

**Done. -MH**

I place my mobile back into my pocket and relax against John. I close my eyes and lay there rejoicing in the warmth and comfort that radiates off of him. I begin to doze off again, when John begins to stir.

He starts kicking his legs fitfully, shaking his head back and forth against my chest. I freeze. He's having a nightmare.

"No. No. Sherlock. Stay. No." He mumbles in his sleep. I place my hand gently on his head and run my fingers threw his hair, kissing the top of his head softly.

"Shhh. It's alright. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere." I say softly against his head, trying to comfort him.

"Don't jump. I can't live without you. Don't jump." He begins to sob in his sleep.

My throat tightens and my nose stings, as tears begin to well in my eyes. He's dreaming about me. My fall. How many times has he dreamt about this only to wake up and believe that I really died? I cling to him tighter, willing his nightmare to leave him.

"I'm not going to jump. I will never leave you again." I whisper, trying not to let my tears betray me and fall.

"Sherlock. Don't be dead. I need you." He says brokenly in his sleep. "I love you."

My heart stops in my chest and my breathing constricts. My mind not even allowing me to comprehend what I've just heard. He _loves_ me. John just said he _loves_ me.

I finally let out the breathe I forgot I was holding in.

"I love you, too." I whisper, nuzzling his head letting the happy tears fall down my face.

John finally quiets, his nightmare past him now. He resumes his peaceful somber. I close my eyes and begin to fall asleep once again.

"Dear me brother. When did you become such a sentiment?" My annoying and ill timed brother drawls disgustedly, waking me from my almost sleep.

I glance up to see him leaning against his umbrella, peering uncomfortably around the hospital room. He has always hated hospitals. He's dressed in his usual immaculate suit and tie. He looks upon John and I with a knowing glint in his eyes. I brush off the tears I forgot had fallen.

"Piss off." I mouth him, giving him a shut-up-or-you'll-wake-John look. He rudely ignores this and continues on.

"Your favours have been pulled, Sherlock. You may take John back to Baker St once he wakes."

"Obviously." I mouth back.

John begins to stir next to me. I shoot Mycroft a hard glare as he rolls his eyes at me in return.

"Hey." I say softly, as his eyes flutter open. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." He says, burrowing closer next to me. Clearly he's not yet aware of my brothers presence. "How did you sleep?"

"Good. I just woke up not too long ago."

Mycroft fiddles with his umbrella from the other side of the room, making John freeze at the sudden noise.

He turns his head slowly to see who the visitor is. Upon seeing it's my brother, his face turns deep red and he turns his head back to me hiding his face like an adorable child. I smile at this.

"Why is he here?" He asks, quietly. Making sure my brother cannot overhear.

"Bailing you out. We can leave when your ready."

"Right..." He says before adding softly, "_We_ can leave? Together?"

"Yes. Together. Back to Baker St. Just you and I." I say affectionately. "And Mrs. Hudson." I add hastily.

John laughs. Actually laughs. I can tell he's still in immense pain, but I'm glad to hear his beautiful laugh echo through the room around us.

We lay there for a brief moment, before we hear an awkward throat clear from the other side of the room. We both look at Mycroft and begin to laugh.

He's still standing near the entrance of John's room looking incredibly uncomfortable. He looks everywhere, but at John and I. Their is nothing particularly funny about what Mycroft is doing just the awkward, uncomfortableness that radiates off of him is hilarious to John and I.

"Oh grow up you two." He reprimands us, making us laugh even more, before continuing when we don't stop. "Very well then. John is free to go. Now if you don't mind I have a meeting to attend to." He says with a final nod before turning and leaving.

"That was embarrassing." John says, still slightly red.

"People will definitely talk." I respond, making John laugh again.

"Let them." He says to my complete surprise causing me to stop stroking his hair.

"John." I say almost inaudibly.

"What is it?" He says looking up at me, concern in his eyes. Our faces are mere inches apart. I can feel his gentle breathe brush against my face, his kind blue eyes peering deeply into mine. I see for the first time how multi-faceted his eyes are. Blue, with a hint of green and gold around the centre. It makes my breathe catch at the sheer beauty his eyes hold. How could I not have noticed it before.

"Sherlock." He whispers, his eyes dilating, his cheeks becoming slightly flushed.

"John." I whisper back, placing my hand on his cheek once more.

We are very close to each other on the tiny hospital bed. Every inch of us touching, from our chest down to our feet. I feel myself begin to lean my head closer to him, John hesitating for the briefest of moments before leaning in, too.

Our lips meet and my world explodes. Every worry, every fear, everything that has happened since I 'died' gone in an instant. All I can feel is John, his lips brushing against mine. My whole being filling with overwhelming love, compassion, and warmth because of him. It spreads through my entire body, filling every cold and dark corner that has remained since childhood and bringing it into the light. The warm, comforting light of John. My heart beats hard and deep, my breathing difficult, making me lightheaded. It's not a bad feeling, it feels amazing. It's a lightheadedness that can only be caused by one thing and one person only. John. John and the consuming love I feel for this man and the love he feels for me in return. I feel tears fall down my face, running onto John's. I'm not sad though. I am filled with such happiness and love that my body could not simply help but begin to weep.

We pull apart, resting our foreheads against each other as we look into each other's eyes. John has tears falling down his face as well. I worry for the briefest of moments if he was upset or regretting what had just happened, but as I look into his eyes again I know that is not true. Love and trust shine through his eyes. I can't help but kiss him again. He doesn't hesitate this time, but happily leans into it.

Our second kiss is brief as I pull apart to wipe the tears from his cheeks, he looks surprised at this notion. He didn't realise he's been crying. He smiles at me and begins to wipe away my own tears.

"I love you." I whisper, tears once again filling my eyes. When did I become so emotional. I have not cried this much since I was a child. But I'm okay with it. If anyone were to see how I truly am on the inside, how human I really am, I'd want it to be John. This man makes me so sentimental.

John looks at me in surprise, before kissing me once more.

"I love you, too." He whispers against my lips.

My heart explodes as it fills with love for the man next to me. Our lips meet once more as our tears mingle happily together. We bask in each other's presence as our lips brush gently against each other. We stay that way for a while, not worrying about pulling apart anytime soon. Why should we? We have all the time in the work and we don't need to leave the hospital until John wants to. So for now, we kiss as if it is our last.

It's not until we hear a soft throat clear and a deep chuckle that we pull apart and gaze at our new visitors.

To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9: Back to Baker St

**John**

I break from my glorious, loving kiss with Sherlock when we hear an awkward throat clear and someone trying to suppress a laugh at the entrance of my hospital room.

"Bloody hell!" A familiar voice exclaims. Sherlock and I turn to look at the visitors. It's smiling Lestrade accompanied by a blushing Molly.

"I knew it! I bloody knew you two had a thing for each other!" He continues, running his hand through his greying hear, but looking extremely happy to see us. I'm blushing furiously at the intrusion. Sherlock doesn't look a bit bothered by it. Bastard.

As I lay in Sherlock's arms trying to get the blush that spread across my cheeks to subside, a painful thought comes to me. _Why aren't Lestrade and Molly surprised to see Sherlock? Sherlock's been gone for a long time and they're acting like he's always been around. Did they know? Did they know all this time, whilst I remained in my flat destroyed by the loss of my best friend._

I push away from Sherlock, my upset projecting clearly on my face. Sherlock immediately realises my upset, but he doesn't seem to be able to deduce what caused it.

"John? John, what's wrong?" Sherlock asks concerned as I get out of the bed, minding the back of my hospital gown as I sure don't want to flash anyone my arse.

My muscles resist my attempt to get out of bed, but I'm determined to stand up right. I don't want to be the pitiful bastard lying in the hospital bed when I confront Sherlock. However the process is painfully slow moving as I am still terribly sore from the torture I had endured. Sherlock ends up getting out of the bed and tries to help me up. I pull away from him and he steps back stunned and hurt. I stand up straight, mustering all my pride that I have whilst in a bloody hospital gown before I speak.

"Why aren't they surprised to see you, Sherlock?" I say through gritted teeth.

"John. It's not what it looks like." He begins placing his hands up in surrender.

"Then what does it look like, because right now it looks like Lestrade and Molly aren't surprised to see you. Why aren't they surprised to see you, Sherlock?"

"John." I hear Molly say quietly.

"Not now, Molly!" I say way too harshly causing her to cringe at the force of my voice. She straightens herself up before starting again.

"No, John. Listen to me." She says, curtly. "Lestrade didn't know. I told him about Sherlock on our way up to visit you. Whilst you've been unconscious, I'd come up to keep Sherlock company. Lestrade didn't know until a couple of moments ago that Sherlock was alive."

"And it's bloody good to see you, mate!" Lestrade says walking over to Sherlock and pulling the surprised detective into a hug. Molly giggles at the adorable reunion. "Scotland Yard has been in the shit since you left. I could sure use your help again." He says, sincerely.

"Of course, but only once John has mended."

"Agreed." Lestrade say with a smile and nod.

"Excuse me." I say, agitated. "Though I hate to disrupt this little reunion. That explains how he knows, but how does she know?" I say pointing an accusing finger at Molly. "Because what I've heard she told him. So how does she know?"

Molly begins to speak, but Sherlock holds up a hand silencing her. She complies and nods, understanding why he wants to be the one to tell me.

"When Moriarty and I were up on the rooftop of Saint Bart's, just before my jump. He had three snipers pointed at three people I care about. If I did not kill myself, the snipers would kill them." He begins.

I sit heavily down on the bed as I listen to Sherlock speak. He sits down next to me, hesitantly taking my hand within his. After a moments, I decide not to pull away.

"The snipers were pointed at Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade..."

"Bloody hell." Lestrade curses under his breath at the news and runs a hand through his hair whilst Sherlock is still talking. Molly steps closer to Lestrade, placing a sympathetic hand on top of his. He looks at her gratefully.

"And you." Sherlock finishes sadly, small tears welling in his eyes only visible for me to see. I nod back giving his hand a sympathetic squeeze before talking.

"Where does Molly come in?" I ask much calmer.

"Moriarty made one mistake in regards to the people I care about. Their have always been four people I care for. The last being Molly." He says as he glances up to smile at Molly whom blushes in response. "I needed an accomplice in faking my death and I knew Moriarty would overlook her. Molly was the one to help me the most in faking my death, followed closely behind was Mycroft. I wanted to come back to you right after my fall, but I had to make sure everyone was safe, especially you. With Mycroft being the British Government, he assisted in having people watch over you to make sure you were safe from harm after Moriarty's suicide. However, they slipped up the day I gave you that note; one was destroyed and the other escaped. I tracked down the escaped spy to find where the rest of Moriarty's web was located. Once I was able to extract the information from him, I destroyed him, and Mycroft sent reinforcements to destroy the rest. I came home, finally able to reunite with you only to be told that you were captured and tortured at the hands of Sebastian Moran who has all but disappeared." He finishes quietly, tears rolling slowly down his face. I reach up, wiping them gently away with the pad of my thumb.

"I knew it was you that gave me the note. Even when Mycroft tried to prove me wrong." I say sheepishly.

"He was trying to protect both of us... much to my agitation." He grumbles, causing me to laugh then grimace against the pain.

Sherlock's hands begin to flutter restlessly around me in concern. Trying to do anything to make the pain go away, even though their is nothing he can do.

"It's alright, Sherlock. It just hurts a bit, not too bad though." I say weakly. He gives me a disbelieving look before nodding solemnly. I turn towards Lestrade and Molly.

"I'm sorry. To both of you. I had no reason to be upset with you two."

"Look, mate. You've got every right to be upset. You've been through a lot lately and quite frankly I don't blame you for reacting the way you did. I would have, too." Lestrade says truthfully.

"Lestrade's right, John. Your reaction was completely understandable." Molly says, quietly. She looks at me sadly. "Quite honestly, it's been hell seeing you upset by his death after all this time. I've wanted to tell you so many time, but I made a promise to Sherlock that I would keep it a secret until everything was safe. I deserved to get a bit of a shout at."

"You don't deserve that, Molly. You've kept my Sherlock company and you kept watch after me. Without you, neither of us would be here. I have so much to thank you for." I say, feeling a lump in my throat begin to form again.

Molly blushes and approaches me, enveloping me in a soft hug.

"Oh, hell." Lestrade says and joins in on the hug. Molly giggles and I look over to see Sherlock sitting awkwardly next to the odd hugging group.

"Oh, get in here." I say, smiling at him. His eyes light up and he envelops us all in a hug. We all begin to laugh and cry a bit, glad to have the gang back together again.

We break off, wiping tears from our eyes. Molly and Lestrade stick around a bit to chat and catch up before having to return to work, leaving Sherlock and I alone again.

We remain seated on the edge of the bed holding each other's hands. Sherlock strokes the side of my face gently, looking lovingly into my eyes.

"You're beautiful." He mumbles.

"I hardly think so." I respond, honestly. He stops stroking my face and looks at me like I've just said the most offensive thing he's ever heard.

"Don't say that, John. Don't you ever say that. You are. You're the most beautiful person I have ever had the fortune to lay my eyes upon. Never say that you aren't." He says, seriously grasping my hand tighter.

I'm slightly taken aback, but the look of conviction pierces his eyes and sears into mine that I can't help but nod in agreement that I won't say that again. He shuffles closer to me on the bed. I rest my head on his shoulder as he begins to stroke my hair. We stay like that for a while before Sherlock speaks again.

"When would you like to leave?"

"Soon. Definitely soon." I say, instantly. "We've still got loads of release forms to fill out. So I might as well start getting ready."

"Alright. I had a bag delivered here with some of your stuff. I'll go fetch it from the loo." He says, letting go. I immediately miss his warmth.

Sherlock notices my pout and bends down to place a loving kiss to my lips. I lean in gratefully rejoicing in the feel of his lips brushing against mine. He pulls me up gently so that I am standing. Our bodies press closely to each other as my hands drift down his sides. Sherlock's hand grasp the back of my neck firmly while the other hand touches the small of my back right near the opening of my gown...

An unrecognised moan erupts around the air around us. To my embarrassment I realise that it came from me. Sherlock breaks the kiss abruptly causing me to kiss awkwardly at the air in between us before I realised the loss of Sherlock's lips. I blush furiously as I try to mumble my apologise.

"No. Umm. Don't apologise. I... I didn't mean to. ..That was my fault.." He says awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair.

He gives me an adorable lopsided grin, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He plants a quick kiss on my lips before leaving to go fetch the bag. The kiss lacked tenderness and seemed forced. I couldn't help but wonder why he pulled away so fast...

As Sherlock leaves the loo with a small bag in tow I sigh inaudibly and mentally shake myself from the thought. He places the bag on the bed and stands awkwardly in front of it.

"Um... I guess I'll wait outside..." He mumbles, running his hand through his raven curls again. It's something he always does when he's frustrated or conflicted. "Let me know when your ready."

"You... You don't have to leave." I burst out then instantly regret it and feel myself blush.

Sherlock looks at me tenderly, placing his hand on my cheek and rubbing gently.

"I... just don't want to be alone." I say truthfully. I really don't want to be alone. I'm afraid that if he leaves I won't see him again and the thought terrifies me to no end.

"I'll be right outside the door, John. I..."

"Please, Sherlock." I begin to beg. I can feel the corners of my eyes begin to prick as the threat of tears become imminent. I look down at the ground, embarrassed that my emotions have got the best of me as of late.

"Okay." He says, softly. "I won't leave. You go ahead and change. I'll be right over here, love." He motions over to the bed. My heart lifted when he called melove.

He give me a gentle kiss on the cheek and then plops down on the bed, grabbing a magazine to read whilst I change.

I know he's not really reading, he's just trying to shield his face to give me my privacy and I respect him for being such a gentlemen.

I smile, but the smile soon turns sad. Something is bothering Sherlock. He pulled away from our kiss so abruptly, his eyes flashed in panic. I know he thinks I probably didn't see it, but I did and it concerns me thoroughly.

Even now as I watch him pretending to read the magazine. His body is tense and rigid. He's clutching the magazine so tight it's crinkling and his knuckles are turning white. He twitches his feet anxiously and I bet if I could see his face, the panic I once saw would be there once again.

"John?" Sherlock asks tentatively.

"Hmm... Oh, yes?" I respond distractedly from being pulled from my worrisome train of though.

"Are you going to get dressed? You've been standing there for five minutes." He says with a forced chuckle.

"Oh, right. Yes."

Sherlock laughs again and I force myself to laugh, too as to not alarm Sherlock any further of my worries, even though he probably already knows.

I zip open the bag and pull out a pair of jeans, pants, undershirt, and sweater; all of which I notice are not mine, but are all my size.

"Sherlock?" I ask, curiously holding up the light blue sweater. "Did you buy me new clothes?" Their's a pause and I swear I hear him stop breathing before he slowly lowers the magazine from his eyes and looks at me.

"Yes." He says, so quiet I almost didn't hear him. "Umm... I thought you'd be more comfortable in new clothes... I can return them and grab you some of your own clothes if you'd like..." He finishes blushing furiously in a deep shade of scarlet and looking extremely embarrassed.

I gawk unattractively at him whilst I wrap my head around how incredibly thoughtful this is. I look back down at the clothes, feeling the soft blue material in my hands... Cashmere. Expensive cashmere. I glance up at Sherlock and I see that he is looking at his hands like he's just done the most stupidest thing in the world. I walk the few steps over to him and place my hand under his chin and try to lift his head up; he resists.

"Sherlock, love?" I say tenderly. He looks up at me hesitantly, clearly afraid that I am going to confirm what he fears. It absolutely breaks my heart. "Thank you."

I bend down and kiss him passionately on his lips. I try to convey my love and overwhelming gratitude for him with my kiss. It's tender and soft, but filled with so much passion and love that when Sherlock responds in the same way, I know he knows that I really truly meant it and I am thankful.

We break apart and rest our foreheads against each other, looking into each other's eyes. I'm captivated by the beauty his eyes behold. Shades of green, blue, gold, and grey swirled together to make the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. They're like galaxies.

"I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you, too"

He presses a tender, loving kiss to my lips whilst rubbing the side of my face. I lean into his touch, rejoicing in the feel of his soft hands caressing my face with such delicacy as if he's afraid I'll break if he rubs too hard. We stay like that a bit longer, revelling in each other's company.

"Suppose I should at least get dressed."

"Yes, love. That's probably a good idea." He says, with a soft smile.

We reluctantly let go of each other. Sherlock turns back to his magazine and I finish getting dress.

As I'm pulling my pants on I realise with a flush of embarrassment that they aren't mine either. A thought catapults itself into my head with so much force I almost fall over. _Oh my dear god, Sherlock bought me pants_. I hesitantly peer at the tag, noticing that they're awfully soft and blush further with embarrassment when I read the label. _Sherlock bought me __**silk**__ pants. I can't believe he... Oh my god... Ajdhsksnshdjsksisn!_

I try to regain my composure, but I'm failing quite miserably. Part of me wants to burst out laughing at the thought of Sherlock strolling around the aisle looking for pants for me and the other part of me wants to die at the thought of Sherlock strolling around the aisle looking for pants for me! To be quite honest, they are quite comfortable on my nether region...

I try to suppress my laughter as I pull on my pants, dark blue jeans, white undershirt, and light blue cashmere sweater. _Cashmere. Jesus, Sherlock. First the silk pants, then the cashmere sweater._

I'm unable to stop myself and I let out a small giggle. Sherlock drops his magazine and looks at me hesitantly. Relief flashes across his face as he realises I am in fact dressed and not stark arse naked.

"What's so funny?" He asks getting off the bed to stand next to me.

"Umm... It's just... well..." I break off and laugh again. Sherlock looks at me incredulously before he starts dissolving into giggles as well. Clearly amused at me. We regain our composure and I continue. "Cashmere?" I say pinching a part of the fabric at my shoulder as if to show him. He nods, confirming that it is in fact cashmere.

"And..." I pause trying not to laugh again. "Silk... Silk pants?" I ask strained, trying my hardest not to laugh again.

Sherlock's eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly. His face turns the deepest shade of red I have ever seen him turn. He looks down at his shoes like they're something interesting and nods minutely. Even though he won't look at me, I'm looking at him with such amusement and wonder as he begins to speak.

"I... umm... I just thought that it would be a bit more... comfortable..." He mumbles embarrassed.

I pull him into a big hug, laughing. He tenses before melting into the hug with me. I can feel him chuckling slightly. We pull apart and I go onto my toes and kiss his nose. He smiles bashfully and brings my hand up to his lips, kissing it softly.

"They are comfortable." I tell him. His eyes light up, then turning mischievous. He gives me a knowing smirk.

"They're _very_ comfortable." He purrs into my ear, causing shivers to go down my spine.

Sherlock leans down and presses his lip to mine fervently; it's urgent and rough. I respond eagerly and with the same amount of force. Our hands drift around each other, feeling the electrifying touch we bring to one another. My heart beats rapidly and I can feel my pulse begin to quicken. I become lightheaded, but I don't want to pull away. It's feels good, really good. I'm consumed by Sherlock and I never want to let go. I feel my way down Sherlock's chest, feeling the smooth, hard muscles underneath his button up shirt. Sherlock's hands drift down my back, before pulling back up again, teasingly.

Another moan erupts around the air around us, I pull away embarrassed fearing that it was me again. Sherlock looks at me surprised. His pupils huge and breathing heavy.

"Oops." He says, looking at me sheepishly. I smile at him coyly whilst raising an eyebrow at him. "Got a bit carried away there."

"That we did." I laugh. His gaze turns from amusement, to passive surprise.

"What have you done to me, John Watson." He ponders.

"You fell in love." I whisper, lovingly.

"As have you." He says, cradling my head in his hands as I look up into his eyes. "And I would never have it any other way."

"You and me against the world. Forever."

"I like the sound of that." He chuckles

"Mmm, even forever is not long enough, but it will do."

"I love you. Infinitely."

"My heart is forever yours, Sherlock. Be gentle with it." I joke.

"Always." He purrs in his deep baritone voice and kisses me gently. Unlike the previous kiss, this one is soft and tender. Dripping in love and compassion for one another. We pull away and place our foreheads against each other, staring deeply into one another's eyes, not needing to say anything because words can never convey the amount of love we share for one another.

"Let's get out of here and back to Baker St. We still have Mrs. Hudson to alert of my well being."

"Oh. That shall be interesting." I state, slightly amused on how this can play out.

"Indeed." He says and grasps my hand, intertwining our fingers together. He places a kiss on top of my head and with that we grab our stuff and leave my hospital room. I lean my head against his shoulder and think about the life we have ahead of us. The life together. I can't wait.

To be continued...


	10. Chapter 10: Mrs Hudson

**Sherlock**

John and I leave the hospital hand in hand. John still has a cast on the lower part of his left leg and arm. His torso wrapped tightly in fresh white gauze since he is still badly bruised and his ribs are still mending from being broken. He also received a nasty concussion that has been slow to heal. Since he still has stitches, the doctor required John to keep the gauze on until he gets his stitches out in a couple of days. This agitated John immensely much to my amusement.

My right hand is also still in a cast, since two of my fingers were broken in my scuffle with the escaped spy. My forearm was sliced deep; all the way to the bone. It'll be another week till they can take the stitches out. The stabbing I had received was more damaging than I had originally thought. It damaged the muscles and nerves around it extensively; the stitches will be out a couple days after the one in my forearm. I also have been instructed to do some sort of physical therapy to build up my strength in my abdomen. Both of us still have faint yellow bruises scattered across our faces and we are both still terribly sore, but John is definitely worse off. Every other step he takes is accompanied by a grunt or a wince in pain. My poor John. He needs to rest.

With my hand still clasped within John's, a raise my other hand and hail a cab. One immediately pulls up and John and I clamber in slowly.

Once inside, John leans his head on my shoulder, exhausted.

"You've got to teach me how you do that." He says, playing with my fingers with his hand like they are something he's never seen before.

I'm slightly thrown off as I'm completely lost and have not the foggiest on what he's talking about.

"Teach you what?" I ask softly, my voice tinged with confusion.

"How you hail a cab so quickly." He responds, looking up at me in amusement. I let out a soft chuckle. "Seriously. At least two pass me before one finally stops."

I lay my head on top of John's, smiling against it.

"Oh, honey it's all in the hips." I respond in an overtly feminine tone, waggling my eyebrows, and snapping my fingers across my face. John bursts out laughing, then inhales quickly with a loud snort. He picks his head off my shoulder and quiets down immediately at the snort. Our eyes lock and we both lose it, collapsing in a fit of laughter. The cabbie gives an agitated grunt and we try to quiet down.

"I can't believe you just said that." John says, biting his lip whilst his eyes water from laughing so hard. "Finger snap in all!"

"Neither can I." I respond trying to pinch my lips from laughing. "I can't believe you just snorted."

"Me, too." He smiles, his eyes dancing with amusement. "It was so loud, I'm pretty sure all of London heard it."

I close the tiny distance between us and lay my lips against his ears. "You haven't heard loud until I'm done with you." I whisper, my deep baritone voice going deeper. John shivers in pleasure as I pull back to look at him, running the pad of my thumb against his lips.

I grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips to mine. Our lips mould perfectly into one another, like they were made to be kissing each other. John's hand snakes around my waist and tugs me closer to him, rubbing small patterns against my hip. With a jolt, I realise what he's doing.

.. .-.. - ...- . -.- - ..-

I love you.

Morose Code. My heart swells with such love for the man. I quickly tap back my response.

.. .-.. - ...- . -.- - ..- - - -

I love you, too.

John smiles against my lips as his hands snake up, wrapping around my shoulder tightly afraid to let go.

Our lips dance with each other; exploring, feeling, and rejoicing in the others touch. So much lies ahead of us. So much left to explore. I can feel excitement flutter through me at the thought as my kiss turns urgent. John quickly catches on and returns it with just as much force. Warmth pools in my stomach as all my sense ignite zoning in on only John as everything else is tuned out.

John.

He makes my world explode in beautiful technicolour. I can feel his touch along my back as my hand clasps the back of his neck and the other high up on his thigh; caressing, stroking. John quivers under my touch so I pull him tighter not wanting to let him go.

"Oi! Knock it off, will ya! This isn't no bloody hotel!" The cabbie shouts at us, causing John and I to break our kiss.

"My apologies." I reply, smoothly whilst still holding onto John's hand.

I look over at my blogger to see him blushing redder than a ripe tomato. I chuckle and pull him closer to me, sliding down on my seat to rest my head on his shoulder. I intertwine our hands and give it a soft squeeze, which John returns immediately and lays his head on top of mine.

The traffic is dreadful today and the streets are packed making our journey home to Baker St a long one. My mind drifts to my pending return, I smile. I have missed home terribly. For the first time in a year I finally feel whole again. The hollowness I had drowned in now filled. I couldn't be more happier.

I sigh contently and feel a flutter of excitement as we get closer and closer to Baker St.

"Excited?" John chuckles, lifting his head to look down at me.

"How can you tell?" I smile, looking up at him.

"You're shaking. It's not cold in here, nor are you sick or anything like that. So, the only thing that explains your tremor is excitement and probably a bit of nervousness." He says nonchalantly.

I pick my head up from his shoulder and gawk at him. My face breaks into a smile as I look at my blogger. "John Watson, did you just deduce me?"

He smiles at me sheepishly with a small shrug. "Yeah. I've been practising. Not a good as you though." He finally says whilst a blush creeps across his cheeks.

I did not think it was possible to love this man anymore, but I just have been proven wrong. My heart has just fallen further into love with John. My John. My blogger. My deducing blogger. I smile at the last bit. I like the sound of that.

I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, pulling him closer. My heart beats painfully in my chest, with the overwhelming love I feel for John. He encompasses me in my embrace, returning it whole heartedly with a small chuckle.

We pull away after a couple minutes, resting our foreheads against each other.

"I love you, John. I love you more than my heart can express." I say closing my eyes and rejoicing in his touch.

John presses a small kiss to my nose, causing pleasant goosebumps to ghost across my skin. "I love you, too. I never want to leave your side ever again. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

I press my lips against his briefly before pulling back. "I will never leave you again. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us. You and me against the world."

John sighs happily, humming a bit. He looks so tranquil. We sit with our foreheads still pressed together in silence whilst our cab slinks slowly towards home.

My mind drifts to Baker St and Mrs Hudson. I begin to wonder about how to tell Mrs Hudson of my return. How should we tell her that I'm alive. I wonder how she will react to my return...

"We need to think about how to tell Mrs Hudson." John says, suddenly breaking me from my train of thought and seemingly reading my mind.

John sees the incredulous expression on my face a chuckles. "No, I can't read your mind. You just look conflicted and taking into affect of what we will have to do soon. I figured it was about revealing yourself to Mrs Hudson."

"Amazing." I breathe out. It truly is. Now I understand why John was always so captivated by my own deductions. It truly is amazing.

John chuckles and kisses my lips tenderly. "Now you understand." He smiles, whispering against my lips. I nod enthusiastically, causing my raven curls to bounce.

"So how do you want to do this?" John asks.

"I can jump out of a cake." I respond, pursing my lips seriously. John laughs and shakes his head.

"You don't want to give her a heart attack now, do you?"

"Welllll..." I say jokingly, trailing off. John backhands me softly across my bicep. I put my hands up in surrender. "I was just kidding." I laugh.

"What about I go in and talk to her whilst you wait outside. I'll prepare her and then shout for you to come in." He shrugs. It's not extravagant anything. I much prefer the jumping out of the cake one, but it'll do.

"Sounds good." I smile.

We remain in silence and pull up to Baker St a couple minutes later. My heart is pounding painfully in my chest and I small sheen of sweat coats my entire body. I haven been here for a year. Will it still be home to me or will I never feel at home here. What if Mrs Hudson hates me for leaving like I did. Making her and John think I've been dead. Will she hold a grudge or forgive me. I begin to breath quick and heavy, panic setting in.

John sees my panic and pulls me closer, whispering words of comfort to me. He eases my anxiety a bit, enough to calm my erratic breathing. I give him a soft kiss in thanks, which he responds to happily.

"You ready?" He asks. I nod, my heart still pounding painfully.

We step out of the cab and John tosses a couple notes to the cabbie. He grasps my hands an give it a soft squeeze, my shaking hands return it.

We reach the familiar, old door of Baker St with its dark wood stain and brass letters. My hands trail gently across the letters as I feel emotions of sentiment course through me.

"Hey." John says, placing a hand on my cheek. "Everything will be okay. I promise."

I nod unable to speak.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes, love." He says, softly kissing my forehead. I close my eyes against the kiss and lean into it.

With that John head inside. I press my ear against the door trying to pick up any sound. I hear a muffled knock, followed by the creaky door opening, and Mrs Hudson exclaiming loudly obviously over John's physical state. It quiets down after that. I can still catch onto what John is saying due to his deeper voice, but not Mrs Hudson's as her voice is softer and at a higher pitch.

"I'm fine, Mrs Hudson. Don't worry. I've been patched up." John says, trying to pacify Mrs Hudson's obvious hysterics.

Muffled silence.

"I'll explain everything later, but I need to show you something first."

Muffled silence.

"Yes, yes I know I should have called." John says, exasperated. I smirk at John getting an obvious ear full from Mrs Hudson.

Muffled silence.

"Well..." He trails off, thinking. "Perhaps it's best for you to wait up in the flat."

Muffled silence.

"It's important and it'll be easier to show you upstairs." John begs, trying to persuade her to listen. She sure can be stubborn when she wants to be.

Muffled silence.

"Thank you." John says, releived that she gave in.

I hear foot steps going up to the flat. Two. John is going up with her. The flat door opens and I just hear one set of foot steps up above. Mrs Hudson. I wait patiently as my heart begins to slam against my chest. I hear steps coming back down the stairs, shortly followed by John opening the front door.

"You ready?" He asks, seriously, but encouragingly.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I practically whisper. He nods and takes my hands.

We walk slowly up the steps hand in hand. I dodge the creaky stair boards, nervously. I don't want to alert Mrs Hudson prematurely of my well being, even though I have no idea why. She is going to find out soon anyways.

We reach the flat door and pause. Our eyes lock as we silently speak to each other. I nod and John opens up the door holding his hand out for me not to follow yet.

"Mrs Hudson, I don't want to alarm you. So, please remain calm." John begins.

"Oh no! You're leaving!" She exclaims hysterically, jumping to conclusions. I roll my eyes and smirk whilst John sighs loudly.

"No, Mrs Hudson quite the contrary actually. I have someone I want to show you." He says and motions me to step inside. I take a deep breathe in, holding it there, and step through the door.

My eyes flick around the flat and with a jolt I realise nothing has changed from the last time I was here. My lab equipment lays scattered on the kitchen table. The smiley face with the bullet holes still on the wall. My violin lies in the exact same spot I left it against my stand, with my unfinished sheet music resting on it. All the furniture and books have been unmoved. Not a speck of dust on anything. I feel my throat constrict and my eyes sting. John didn't change anything. He kept the flat exactly how I left it, perhaps a bit cleaner even though that's probably Mrs Hudson's doing. But it must have been so hard for him to remain here with so many reminders of me around. I feel a single tear drip down my face as I turn to Mrs Hudson.

She sits on the couch with her hands pressed firmly against her mouth. She looks like she's in shock. She's paler than a ghost and streams of tears fall down her face. We stare at each other in silence, neither of us saying a thing as we let the surprise sink in.

"Hello, Mrs Hudson." I finally say, my voice strong even though I feel weak inside as I pick nervously at the hem of my pants.

"Sher-Sherlock?" She aske brokenly, her voice cracking. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, it is." I say, walking slowly over and kneeling down in front of her taking her trembling hands into mine.

She whimpers quietly then throws her hands around my neck squeezing hard. I grunt at the force and hesitantly wrap my hands around her. She sobs into my coat squeezing harder. I let out a strained laugh, feeling tears fall down my face.

"Mrs Hudson... I... can't... breathe."

"Sorry, dear." She laughs and pulls away, wiping away her tears. "You're crying." She states, surprised.

"Umm... Yeah. Seem to be doing a lot of that as of late." I say, feeling a blush creep across my face. She's never seen me cry before.

She smiles through her tears, before her expression drops. She brings her hand back and slaps me across the face. Hard.

It surprises me, but then again unexpected it. I put her and John through hell this last year. I deserve it.

"Do you have any idea what you've done to John?!" She shreiks, her hands shaking with anger. "He was a wreck! I was afraid to leave him alone! He almost killed himself because he couldn't cope with you being gone! I almost lost both of you!"

My heart stops and I look back at John. He tried to kill himself... He didn't... he didn't tell me that.

He looks down at the ground and shrugs. Too ashamed to meet my eyes as he picks nervously at his hands.

I stand up and walk slowly over to John. I place my hand on both sides of his forearm and squeeze softly. "Is this true?" I ask, almost inaudible.

John looks up at me with his eyes pulling down sadly at the sides. His eyes full of unshed tears as he nods.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close. He exhales a jagged breath and holds me onto me, too.

"How?" I ask, even though I already know.

"Gun." He chokes. "Mrs Hudson walked in just as I was about to do it and stopped me. She threw a worse fit then the one she just gave you." He ends with a chuckle trying to lighten the situation whilst I nod. I was right. I knew he'd use the gun. "I'm glad she stopped me." He adds.

I pull away and look down at him, our foreheads resting against each other. "I'm glad she did, too. I don't know what I would have done if you... succeeded." I say, rubbing the pad of my thumb against his cheek. "Don't ever do that again." I add, seriously. My aquamarine eyes burning into his blue ones.

"Yeah. You, too."

"I would never again."

We stand in the middle of my old flat, peering into each other's eyes. John has his hands wrapped low on my waist whilst one of my hands rub his cheek and the other lies on his back. Mrs Hudson's presence briefly forgotten. I press my lips against his, tenderly. Trying to covey my love and gratitude that he's still alive with a kiss. We break apart when we hear a high pitched squeal from the couch.

We turn to see Mrs Hudson almost bouncing out of her chair in excitement. For an old woman with a bad hip, she's getting some air. Small squeals of excitement escape her lips every so often at the sight of us whilst her eyes shine with new happy tears.

John flushes with embarrassment. Clearly he forgot Mrs Hudson was still here, too. I on the other hand am glad to see her so elated at the sight of us. She always did ship us from the beginning.

"You... John... Sherlock... Together... Really!" She exclaims, unable to finish one sentence before jumping to another. I chuckle deeply and intertwine my fingers with John. He smiles bashfully at her.

"Yes. John and I are together. We..." I stop suddenly and look down at John, questioningly. We haven't really discussed about what we are yet. I hope I didn't cross a line.

John sees my panic and squeezes my hand. "Yes, we are together. We haven't really discussed it, but I thinks it's safe to say that we are boyfriends." John says smiling up at me. I smile back, liking the sound of that.

"That's fantastic!" Mrs Hudson exclaims, standing up an enveloping us into a massive hug. We both laugh and hug her back, our tears mingling with our smiles.

"I'm going to go downstairs and bring up some tea and something to nibble on whilst you tell me everything. I'll be back in a tic." She says, breaking from our hug.

One hour later.

"She's been gone for a while, Sherlock. Should we go check on her?" John asks, snuggled up next to me on the couch with my arm wrapped around his shoulder.

"No, she's fine. She's obviously making more than just a nibble. She'll be up in about two minutes and thirty-two seconds."

Two minutes an thirty-two seconds later.

"Yuhoo!" Mrs Hudson says coming into our flat with a tray full of yummy, delicious food. The smell consumes the air around us making my mouth water. I haven't eaten a lot, more so than I use to. My stomach growls loudly at the sight of the steaming warm food.

"Glad you're hungry, Sherlock. You are looking far too thin. Far too thin." Mrs Hudson says reprimanding me slightly whilst setting the food down on the table in front of the couch. John and I look hungrily at the food. Seafood linguine with yummy three cheese sauce and breadsticks.

"Well go on! Dig in!" She says as we grab our plates and pile the food on high.

We eat in comfortable silence. John finishes off two plates full of pasta whilst I finish my one and Mrs Hudson finishes off half if her's.

I lean against the back of the couch stuffed. I look over at John to see his belly protruding out a bit. I chuckle.

"Are you pregnant over there, John?" I ask, jokingly.

"Think so after that." He smiles.

"What are you? Five, six months along?" I say, poking his belly making a soft bloop noise when I do.

"Piss off." He says, swatting my hand away blushing whilst Mrs Hudson laughs.

I scoot closer to John and lay my head on his shoulder, curling up next to him like a small child. Mrs Hudson sighs contently, smiling at us.

"It's so great having you back. Both of you. It hasn't been the same since you've gone, Sherlock." John and I both nod I'm agreement as she continues. "Now I want both of you to tell me everything." She says, motioning to our wounds. I lift my head off of John's and peer into his eyes. Both of us silently agreeing to start from the beginning.

I jump into the story, explaining everything from the day of my fall to the moments counting up to revealing myself to Mrs Hudson. Both John and Mrs Hudson listen eagerly, asking questions when they have them. I leave out the bit about John and I sleeping in the same hopsital bed and whatnot. No need to go into detail about that. John looked relieved with my ommission. John added his bits of the story here and there. I listen intently as it was the first time I've heard his side of the story.

"What are we going to do about Sebastian, Sherlock? He would have killed John if Mycroft's men didn't show up." Mrs Hudson asks with tears in her eyes.

"No, he wouldn't have killed him. He was doing it to draw mw out. It would have worked if Mycroft's men didn't show up, but Mycroft's people are looking for him. He's unfourtunatley disappeared without a trace." I say, solemnly.

"Are you going to go look for him?" She asks, scared. Clearly she's worried about John and I being in danger.

I look at John and he nod at me, giving me am encouraging smile.

"We will eventually. As you can see, myself and especially John are in no state to search for him right now."

She nods, taking in the information as John snakes his hand in mine and squeezes.

I peer at my blogger and see dark, baggy circles under his eyes. He looks exhausted. I scoot over and motion for him to lay his head down on my shoulder. Much to mine and Mrs Hudson's surprise he lays his head down on my lap.

Mrs Hudson makes a soft 'oh' noise and blushes.

"I believe it's time for you boys to get some rest. You need your sleep to mend properly." She says standing up.

"I believe you are right Mrs Hudson." I say with a yawn becoming sleepy myself.

"If you need anything just give me a shout."

"Will do." I say, with a wink. She laughs softly and heads to the door. I hear a small snore coming from my lap and realise that John has already feel asleep. I smile and brush his hair to the side gently so I don't wake him. Mrs Hudson smiles at me fondly.

"I'm so happy you found each other, Sherlock. After all these years of you two tiptoeing around each other. It was quite maddening." She whispers as to not wake John.

"I know." I say, simply.

"You were made for each other. Two halves of a whole. Without the other half you two are not complete. You deserve each other more than anyone I have ever met. I'm so happy you found love in each other at last."

"Me, too." I respond, smiling up at her. Her words touch my heart deeply.

She walks quietly over to me and kisses me on the cheek. I smile against it, her motherly love warming my heart.

"Go on and get some rest. I'll check on you in the morning."

"Thank you." I say, sincerely. She smiles at me and departs, closing the door with a soft click.

I sit on the couch with John in my lap still brushing his hair with my fingers. I'm tempted to just sleep here with John in my lap, but as I look at John I know he'll wake terrible sore.

I make my decision and manoeuvre my way from under him and stand up. I pick him up and carry him bridal style to my old room. He's lighter than I thought and has lost a lot of weight in this last year. I walk quietly through the flat and to my old room thankfully the door is open. I feel John stir, but he stays asleep snoring adorably soft. I set him down on my bed and pull off his shoes and pull the duvet over him. He's still fully clothed, but I don't want disturb his peaceful sleep.

I stand at the edge of the bed conflicted. I don't know if I should join him or sleep elsewhere. Would it freak John out if he wakes up to me lying next to him? Would that be moving to fast? Would he think it would be weird? Would he...

"Get in here before you have a brain aneurysm." John says with his eyes still closed. I hadn't even realised he was up.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Since you lifted me up from the couch." He smiles.

"Oh." I say dumbfounded. "You were fake sleeping?" I continue in mock accusation.

"Yup." He says popping the 'p'.

"How dare you fool me." I smile. He laughs and then motions at the spot next to him.

I kick off my shoes and clamber in next to him. He lifts off the covers for me and I slid in. Once inside John cosies up to my side and rest his head in my chest with a content sigh. I wrap my arms around his shoulder pulling him closer. We lay in each other's arms happier than a hedgehog and otter in the Summer.

"Get some sleep, kay." John says, sleepily.

"You, too, my love."

"I will."

"Goodnight, John. Sweet dreams." I say kissing the top of his head.

"Goodnight, Sherlock. Love you." He responds smiling against my chest.

"I love you, too." I say as he picks his head off my shoulder, kissing my lips softly. My heart flutters at the touch as my entire body fills with warmth.

As he places his head back on my chest I'm pretty sure he's asleep before it hits. I smile happily with my sleeping John in my arms.

I close my eyes and lull myself slowly to sleep by listening to John's soft snores and his body moulded against mine. I feel the welcoming embrace of sleep begin to engulf me. I greet it as an old friend with a smile on my face and my blogger in my arms.

To be continued...


End file.
